My best friend, my son John, age 52, died Dec. 14, 2021. John suffered with severe rheumatoid arthritis, so his immune system was comprised. We hadn’t seen each other for months due to Covid-19.

We’d talk and text and he always stressed washing hands, masking up, keeping distance from others end not dining out. Yet he knew someone who laughed off Covid as just the “flu” and refused to mask up.

John contracted Covid and developed a high fever. He ended up on the Covid ward at a local hospital in Arlington Heights.

My heart ached to see him, hug him and tell him all would get better. That’s what moms do, right? I was dead wrong. John returned from the hospital and developed a secondary infection. His cough was horrendous

He was eager to return to work, to life. But on the evening of Dec. 14 he had a seizure; then a massive heart attack, Covid related. At the hospital as he lay lifeless on the gurney with a tube in his nose and another in his mouth, I scream-cried. I went into shock. Not my son!

I cry on a daily basis. I touch his baby picture and shake. My life will never be the same. Folks, wake up. This isn’t a political hoax. This is about being humane.

I’m begging you. Think smart. Be smart. Please. Hug your family daily. Tell them you love them. Our lives changed in a heartbeat for the worst.

I wrote this story and submitted it to the Daily Herald Newspaper in my home town, Arlington Heights, IL. They published it on Valentine’s Day, Feb. 14, 2022. I’ve heard from many old and new friends after reading “our story”, our pain.

I wrote the following article in John’s obituary:
John you are the love of my life. You took a piece of my heart with you. I remember your hugs, laughter, and the day you carried me from one room to another saying “Now when you behave yourself you can join us!” I laughed so hard I cried. That’s when you nicknamed me Fred. I am proud you were my son. My gift from God. Rest in peace. No more RA pain. I know you’re seeing the grandparents. No fighting! Love forever. P.S. I learned so much from you. You are my gift from God.

John’s birthday was Aug. 18th so in the following months I purchased several balloons and wrote “love notes” on them telling him how much I missed him on a daily basis but carry him in my heart and soul. I brought the balloons to the local park where we’d meet for suppers during Covid, keeping our social distance. As I released the balloons I sang Happy Birthday and told him stories of the day he was born.

The story that made him laugh many, many year later was what actually happened on the day of his birth. A young RN walked into my hospital room telling me they’d be bringing the babies in soon for their first feeding. I was a wreck but so worn out from labor and lack of sleep. Once he was in my arms I smiled like a Cheshire cat only to have another RN scream and race into the room telling me LOUDLY, “Don’t feed him, he’s not yours!” Yep, they’d given me the wrong baby!!!!

When John was in his “terrible two’s” I’d say, “You don’t look like me, you don’t sound like me, you are going back kiddo” all in jest. His retort was “You’re a bad mommy!” Years later we’d laugh and laugh with tears of happiness streaming down our faces. I’d give anything to hold John in my arms today, just one more time. I don’t think I’d be able to let him go.

I have a shirt he wore, locks of hair from his very first hair cut and a baby book of memories to carry me thru. But it hurts deeply every single minute of every single day!

Folks, look your loved ones straight into their eyes, even your pets, and tell them how much you love and cherish them. Every single day. Life is short.

Thank you for reading my thoughts, my heart and memories, my story.